Terrible Wonders (English version/Versión en inglés)
Summary: Stella Grace Rogers believed that her twin had died that day, Steve did not know that he had passed with her when he woke up until they found her, what will happen when they meet again? And when Grace meets a certain STRIKE Commander?
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part VIII
Part IX
Part X
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
Main masterlist.
Add yourself to my taglist here.
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Terribles Maravillas (Versión en español/Spanish Version)
Sinopsis: Stella Grace Rogers creyó que su mellizo había muerto aquel día, Steve no sabía que había pasado con ella cuando él despertó hasta que la encontraron, ¿qué pasará cuando se vuelvan a reunir? ¿Y cuándo Grace conozca a cierto Comandante de STRIKE?
Parte I
Parte II
Parte III
Parte IV
Parte V
Parte VI
Parte VII
Parte VIII
Parte IX
Parte X
No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.
DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.
Resumen: Stella Grace Rogers creyó que su mellizo había muerto aquel día, Steve no sabía que había pasado con ella cuando él despertó hasta que la encontraron, ¿qué pasará cuando se vuelvan a reunir? ¿Y cuándo Grace conozca a cierto Comandante de STRIKE?
Advertencias: Ninguna hasta el momento.
A/N: Es mi entrada para Kristen’s 2020 Writing Challenge!
Así como mi entrada para Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge
Y mi entrada para 200 Celebration Writing Challenge con el diálogo #12:
“No soy una damisela en apuros. Soy una damisela haciendo daño”
Así mismo investigué mucho acerca de la época entre 1916-1945, así que todo está de acuerdo a como en verdad era en ese tiempo, los chicos y las chicas iban en escuelas separadas dependiendo de su género era lo que aprendían, lo sé el sexismo apesta.
No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.
DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.
Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.
Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.
Part I Part III Part IV Part V Part VI
Brooklyn, Mayo 1918
Sarah se preparaba para ir a su trabajo en el hospital, eran las últimas semanas antes de que le dieran un mes libre por el nacimiento de sus bebés, al menos eso le había dicho uno de los médicos de donde trabaja, Joseph parecía emocionado por la noticia cuando le escribió la carta, aunque ahora que lo pensaba, no había recibido ninguna carta en esa semana, suponía que el correo se había atrasado.
Estaba a punto de tomar su bolso para salir de la casa cuando alguien llamó a la puerta, ella fue abrirla
— ¿Sarah Rogers?—preguntó el hombre.
—Soy yo—respondió.
Su corazón se encogió al ver al soldado en la puerta, quizás Joseph estaba herido y tenía que irlo a ver. El soldado tomó un poco de aire.
—Lamento su pérdida—dijo mientras le daba una carta y algunas cosas más.
Ella tomó la carta y la leyó las lágrimas salieron sin control de sus ojos.
JOSEPH ROGERS, SU ESPOSO ESTABA MUERTO
Durante el funeral estuvo inconsolable, Joseph le había prometido que regresaría a salvo, verían crecer a sus bebés juntos y tendrías muchos hijos. Ahora estaba ella sola y tenía miedo de lo que haría de ahora en adelante, no sabía si podría con todo lo que estaba por pasar.
Julio 1918
El dolor era peor de lo que esperaba y le habían contado, extrañaba a su esposo pero ahora en ese momento deseaba que estuviera a su lado, sentía que se moría, pero sabía que no lo podía hacer sino quien cuidaría de esos bebés.
—Salo un poco más Sarah ya puedo ver la cabeza, puja de nuevo—le ordenó la comadrona.
Ella lo hizo y de pronto escuchó un llanto.
—Es un varoncito—alguien le dijo.
Ella sonrió un poco pero el dolor volvió a su cuerpo, el bebé ya había salido, pero faltaba el otro, se sentía como si el tiempo se hubiera congelado, casi estaba segura que ya habían salido los dos.
—Falta el otro.
— ¿Qué?—preguntó casi sin aliento.
Sentía que se moría, el cansancio era demasiado, la voz de la comadrona la había devuelto a la realidad.
Los siguientes 20 minutos le parecieron eternos y cada vez sentía que tenía menos fuerza
—Es una preciosa niña—escuchó de pronto.
—Quiero verlos—pidió.
Nueva York, 2012
Grace estaba buscando en unos cajones una libreta, necesitaba hacer una lista con las cosas que compraría del supermercado, le encantaba ir de compras, aunque a veces sentía que avergonzaba a Steve.
Vio un folder que le llamó la atención y lo sacó, lo abrió, era una ficha de S.H.I.E.L.D.
—Sigue viva—preguntó incrédula.
Siguió leyendo, se sentía molesta, a final de cuentas ella había logrado sus objetivos, aunque de alguna manera se alegraba que Steve no se hubiese visto involucrado, habría salido herido y no quería que él tuviera el corazón roto.
—Al final si se casó con él, lo sabía.
Estaba segura que debió haber hecho algo como para que siguiera con viva después de tanto tiempo, ni siquiera había tocado el tema con Steve, parecía como si de alguna manera tácita estuviera prohibido para ellos.
—Hierba mala nunca muere—murmuró mientras seguía leyendo el expediente.
— ¿Dijiste algo?—preguntó Steve.
Grace se sobresaltó, no se había dado cuenta que su mellizo había regresado. Steve vio los papeles en la mano de ella.
—La he ido a visitar dos veces.
—Que bien. Debió alegrase de verte.
Ella no encontraba las palabras exactas, ni siquiera le había contado lo que había pasado después de que él cayera en el hielo, ella prácticamente había tratado de destruirle la vida, no sabía cuánto tiempo más soportaría estar sin decirle nada de lo ocurrido.
—Sí, bueno al principio parecía incrédula, pero luego platicamos y ha tenido una vida feliz—dijo Steve.
— ¿En serio?
—Vamos Grace, ella es buena.
—Si tú lo dices.
No quería tener otra pelea.
— ¿Ya tienes la lista?—preguntó Steve cambiando de tema.
Ella asintió y fueron a comprar las cosas, aunque varias veces Steve tuvo que arrastrar a su hermana para que dejara de curiosear y perder el tiempo cada de que algo le llamaba a ella la atención, cuando regresaron a casa Grace horneó un pastel, el favorito de Steve.
—Extrañaba tanto tus pasteles, ha pasado mucho tiempo desde la última vez que cocinaste uno—comentó Steve.
—El último fue anoche antes de que nos fuéramos al ejército, era un pastel de fresas—recordó Grace.
— ¿Fue difícil?
— ¿Qué?
—Cocinar.
—No aunque ahora ahorras un poco de tiempo, el pay de la vez pasada fue mucho más sencillo que esto.
—Y ¿qué te parece esta época?—preguntó de pronto Steve.
—Debo confesar que demasiadas cosas han cambiado, aunque me alegra que la gente no me reconozca, ventajas de ser invisible.
—Grace…
—Vamos Stevie, los dos sabemos que tú eras el popular después del suero e hiciste muchas cosas por el país tal y como siempre lo habías querido y yo bueno…yo… yo soy buena cocinando pasteles—dijo Grace riendo.
Steve se quedó pensando un rato, Grace tenía razón, en el ejército siempre la relegaron, no era como si realmente la consideraran teniente o una agente, quizás nada más la habían aceptado porque él lo pidió.
—Por cierto Steve, ¿tienes información de lo que pasó con los Comandos? me gustaría leerlo después de la cena, aun no entiendo bien cómo funciona eso del inter…como se llame.
—Internet, pero sí, tengo un poco de información.
Le dio el folder a su gemela, Grace sintió algo extraño en su interior, no podía discernir si eran celos o tristeza, todos habían continuado su vida sin ellos, aunque era obvio que no se iban a detener porque hubieran “desaparecido”, suspiró, por más que intentaba recordar algún detalle o encontrar alguna pista de lo que le había pasado no lograba nada.
Grace estaba en el gimnasio del Triskelion, internamente se debatía entre decirle o no lo ocurrido a Steve.
—Teniente—saludó Brock.
—Grace, sólo dime Grace, lo de teniente fue una mentira no hice nada con ese puesto, eran puras mentiras de la época—pidió.
Brock la vio sin entender, pero no importaba, tenía algo más pensado.
—Claro, me preguntaba si viernes en la tarde querías ir a una cafetería que encontré—dijo Brock.
Grace dejó de golpear el saco y volteó a verlo.
— ¿Es una cita?—preguntó.
Las cosas eran aún confusas para ella, no quería malinterpretar nada ni cometer algún tipo de error sin contar que nunca le había agradado realmente tener citas, al menos las únicas que había tenido en el pasado había sido Bucky quien había arreglado todo y siempre habían salido mal, al menos para Grace, pero quería creer que esta vez todo sería diferente.
—Sí, bueno si quieres puedes invitar alguien más—respondió no muy seguro Brock.
Brock se quiso golpear, nunca había sido tímido, no entendía porque actuaba como un idiota, aunque esperaba que ella no invitara a nadie más, no quería que sus planes se arruinarán.
—Si nada más vamos tú y yo y pasas a mi casa por mí, acepto—respondió Grace.
—Solo tú y yo—afirmó Brock
Ella le dio un beso en la mejilla y caminó hacia los vestidores.
— ¡Llega a las seis por mí!
Ella sonrió, Steve le había dicho que el viernes tenía una entrevista y regresaría después de las diez de la noche, así que no tendría que dar ninguna explicación, ya que pensaba regresar antes que él, sin contar que sabía que no se llevaba del todo bien con Brock.
Fue a la oficina de Natasha y se asomó.
—Nat, necesito tu ayuda—pidió.
— ¿Qué pasa?
—Tengo una cita, pero no sé cuál es el protocolo, no quisiera cometer algún error.
— ¿Con quién?—preguntó Nat interesada
—Brock.
— ¡Con Rumlow!—exclamó sorprendía.
—Cállate, no quiero que Steve sepa—dijo tapándole la boca.
—Estoy impresionada, ¿por qué no quieres que Steve se entere?
—Es una larga historia.
—Bueno puedo ayudarte a elegir la ropa y arreglarte—se ofreció Nat.
—Suena bien, gracias.
Grace no podía negar que estaba nerviosa, las únicas citas que había tenido en el pasado habían sido organizadas por Bucky y siempre eran un fracaso…al menos para ella y Steve. También sería algo nuevo tener una sin su hermano y sin Bucky, esperaba no arruinar el momento, pero sobretodo que Steve no se enterara.
Brooklyn, 1931
Grace estaba afuera de su escuela esperando a que su mellizo y Bucky llegaran por ella, odiaba ir a escuelas separadas, ella iba a una diferente de a que iban Steve y Bucky, más que nada porque no tenía ninguna amiga en ese lugar, estaba celosa de que Steve al menos tenía a su amigo en clases, pero ella siempre estaba sola en la escuela. Daría lo que fuera para que los tres estuvieran en la misma escuela.
Solía ignorar lo que las otras niñas decían de ella, siempre buscaban provocarla y burlarse de ella, trataba de no meterse en problemas para que su madre no tuviera que faltar al trabajo por su culpa.
—Ella es muy fea—escuchó de pronto.
Siguió ignorando las palabras, se mordió el labio inferior, empezó a rogar para que los chicos no se tardaran más.
—Usa ropa barata.
—He escuchado que su padre los dejó para irse con otra mujer.
—No, yo escuché que su madre se acuesta con otros hombres y por eso el padre se fue, ahora lo hace para mantenerlos.
Grace estaba llegando a su límite, si bien no tenía una familia igual a la de ellas era feliz con lo que tenía, ella sabía que su madre era enfermera y no lo que las niñas decían.
También sabía que todas ellas esperaban a que las profesoras ya se hubieran ido a sus casas para no tener problemas, aunque no creían que le creyeran realmente a Grace.
—Y su hermano es insoportable parece necesitado de amor—dijo otra.
—Es repugnante—apoyó una de las chicas.
Grace entornó los ojos, ya había llegado a su límite, no toleraría más.
— ¿Que dijiste de mi hermano?—preguntó volteando y acercándose al grupo.
Podría soportar que hablaran mal de ella, pero no de su mamá ni de Steve, todos trataban mal a Steve sin siquiera conocerlo realmente.
—Lo que escuchaste tonta—respondió la niña con malicia.
Grace se abalanzó sobre la chica, le iba a dar su merecido para que no se volviera a meter con su familia. Las otras empezaron a gritar asustadas.
—No vuelvas hablar mal de mi familia—dijo Grace mientras le jalaba el moño que traía en el cabello a la niña.
Steve y Bucky llegaron en ese momento.
— ¿Es Grace?—preguntó Bucky tratando de analizar lo que estaba pasando.
De inmediato Steve corrió hacia las chicas y trató de agarrar a su melliza
—Grace, cálmate—pidió sin obtener éxito.
Bucky alcanzó a agarrar a Grace y separó de la chica
—Salvaje—balbuceó la chica.
— ¿Estás bien?, disculpa mi hermana—dijo Steve y le tendió la mano para ayudarla
—Aléjate de mí—chilló la niña y se levantó.
—Será mejor que nos vayamos—le susurró Bucky a Steve sin soltar a Grace.
— ¿Qué fue lo que pasó?—pregunto Steve camino a casa.
—Le di una buena lección, ella se lo buscó.
—Grace, deberías comportarte como una dama, a veces creo que te metes en muchos problemas—la regaño Steve.
—Cállate, a ti te va peor—contraatacó Grace.
—Tú siempre terminas como una damisela en apuro…
— No soy una damisela en apuros. Soy una damisela haciendo daño.
—No sabía que sabias como pelear—comentó Bucky.
—Aprendí ustedes—respondió orgullosa.
— ¿Pero qué te hicieron?, no puedes ir pegándole a las chicas nada más porque si—continuó regañando Steve.
—Ella dijo cosas horribles de nuestra familia, de mí, de mamá, de ti, ella empezó.
—Tu moño y una parte de tu vestido rotos—observó Bucky.
— ¿Qué?
Grace se quitó el moño y revisó su vestido, determinó que era algo que se podía arreglar fácilmente en la casa.
—Lo arreglaré antes de que mamá llegue a casa.
Solo esperaba que al día siguiente no fuese a tener problemas en la escuela por culpa de la niña.
Pairing: Brock Rumlow X OFC (Stella Grace Rogers).
Word count: 1952 words.
Summary: Stella Grace Rogers believed that her twin had died that day, Steve did not know that he had passed with her when he woke up until they found her, what will happen when they meet again? And when Grace meets a certain STRIKE Commander?
Warnings: None at the moment.
A/N: This is the second part of my entry to the @peterman-spideyparker‘s Kristen’s 2020 Writing Challenge! and @crushedbyhyperbole ‘s Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge
And my entry to the @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam ‘s 200 Celebration Writing Challenge with the dialogue prompt #12:
“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage”
Also, I investigate a lot about History between 1916-1945, so a lot of parts are based on real things at that time. In this chapter, boys and girls went to separate schools, so they learned different things according to their gender, yeah I know sexism sucks.
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
Main masterlist.
Add yourself to my taglist here.
My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.
If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.
Part I Part III Part IV Part V Part VI
Brooklyn, May 1918
Sarah was preparing to go to work in the hospital, it was the last weeks before she was given a month off for the birth of her babies, at least that was one of the doctors where she works, Joseph seemed excited by the news when he wrote the letter, although now that she thought about it, she hadn't received a letter that week, she assumed the mail was late.
She was about to grab her bag to leave the house when someone knocked on the door, she went to open it
"Sarah Rogers?" The man asked.
"It's me," she replied.
Her heart sank at the sight of the soldier at the door, perhaps Joseph was wounded and had to go see him. The soldier took a little air.
"I'm sorry for your loss," she said as she handed him a letter and a few other things.
She took the letter and read it, tears streaming out of her eyes.
JOSEPH ROGERS, HER HUSBAND WAS DEAD-
During the funeral she was inconsolable, Joseph had promised her that would return safely, they would see their babies grow together and have many children. Now she was alone and she was afraid of what she would do from now on, she didn't know if she could with everything that was about to happen.
July 1918
The pain was worse than she expected and they had told her, she missed her husband but now at that moment she wanted him to be by her side, she felt that she was dying, but she knew that she could not do it but who would take care of those babies.
"Get out a little more Sarah I can see the head, bid again," the midwife ordered.
She did and suddenly heard a cry.
"Is a little boy," someone said to him.
She smiled a little but the pain returned to her body, the baby had already left, but the other one was missing, she felt as if time had frozen, she was almost sure that the two had already left.
"The other is missing."
"What?" she asked almost breathlessly.
She felt that she was dying, the fatigue was too much, and the midwife's voice had brought her back to reality.
The next 20 minutes seemed eternal to her and every time he felt that she had less strength
"Is a beautiful girl"
She suddenly heard.
"I want to see them," she asked.
New York, 2012
Grace was looking for a notebook, she needed to make a list of the things she would buy from the supermarket, and she loved shopping, although sometimes she felt ashamed of Steve.
He saw a folder that caught his attention and he took it out, opened it, it was a file from S.H.I.E.L.D.
"She’s still alive," she asked incredulously.
She continued reading, she was upset, and after all, she had achieved her goals, although somehow she was glad that Steve had not been involved, would have been hurt and did not want him to be heartbroken.
"In the end, if she married him…I guess, I knew it."
She was sure she must have done something to keep her alive after so long, she hadn't even touched on the subject with Steve, it seemed as if somehow unspoken was forbidden for them.
"Weeds never die out," he murmured as he continued reading the file.
"Did you say something?" Steve asked.
Grace was startled, not realizing that her twin had returned. Steve saw the papers in her hand.
"I've been to visit her twice."
“Good. She must have been glad to see you.
She could not find the exact words, she had not even told him what had happened after he fell on the ice, she had practically tried to destroy her life, and she did not know how much longer she could bear to be without telling him what had happened.
"Yeah, well at first she seemed incredulous, but then we talked and she's had a happy life," said Steve.
“Seriously?”
"Come on Grace, she's good."
“If you say so.”
She didn't want to have another fight.
“Do you have the list yet?” Steve asked, changing the subject.
They bought things and Grace baked a cake, Steve's favorite.
"I missed your cakes so much, it's been a long time since you last cooked one," Steve said.
"The last one was last night before we went to the army," Grace recalled.
“It was difficult?”
“What?”
“Cook in this time.”
“Not even though you save a little time now, last time pay was much easier than this.”
“And what do you think of this time?” Steve asked suddenly.
“I must confess that too many things have changed, although I am glad that people do not recognize me, perks of being invisible.”
“Grace…”
"Come on Stevie, we both know that you were popular after the serum and I'm…well…I…I'm good at baking cakes," she said laughing
Steve thought for a while, Grace was right, she was always relegated in the army, it wasn't as if they considered her a Lieutenant or an agent, maybe they had just accepted her because he asked for it.
"By the way, Steve, do you have any information on what happened to the Commandos? I would like to read it after dinner, I still do not understand how it works the inter... Whatever that is called.”
“Internet, but yes, I have little information.
He gave the folder to his twin.
Grace was in the Triskelion gym, internally struggling to tell Steve what had happened or not.
"Lieutenant," Brock greeted.
"Grace, just tell me Grace, the Lieutenant was a lie, I didn't do anything with that position, it was just a lie," he asked.
Brock saw her without understanding, but it didn't matter, he had something else in mind.
"Sure, I was wondering if you wanted to go to a coffee shop I found next Friday afternoon," Brock said.
Grace stopped hitting the sack and turned to see him.
"Is it a date?"
Things were still confusing for her, she didn't want to misinterpret anything or make any kind of mistake.
“Yes, well if you want you can invite someone else.”
Brock wanted to hit himself, he had never been shy, he did not understand why he acted like an idiot, although he hoped that she did not invite anyone else, he did not want his plans to be ruined.
"If only you and I go and come to my house for me, I accept," Grace replied.
"Just you and me," said Brock
She kissed him on the cheek and walked to the locker room.
“Pick me up at six!”
She smiled, Steve told her that on Friday he had an interview and would return after ten at night, so she would not have to give any explanation, since she planned to return before him, without saying that she knew that he didn't get along well with Brock.
She went to Natasha's office and peeked out.
"Nat, I need your help," she asked.
“What happens?”
“I have a date, but I don't know what the protocol is, I wouldn't want to make a mistake.”
"With whom?" Nat asked interested.
"Brock."
"With Rumlow!" she exclaimed in surprise.
"Shut up, I don't want Steve to know," she said, covering her mouth.
"I'm impressed, why don't you want Steve to find out?"
“It is a long story.”
"Well I can help you choose the clothes and fix you," Nat offered.
"Sounds good, thanks."
Grace couldn't deny that she was nervous, the only dates she'd had in the past had been arranged by Bucky and were always a failure ... at least for her and Steve. It would also be something new to have one without his brother and Bucky, she hoped not to ruin the moment, but especially that Steve did not find out.
Brooklyn, 1931
Grace was outside her school waiting for her twin and Bucky to come for her, she hated going to separate schools, she went to a different one than Steve and Bucky went to, mostly because she didn't have any friends there, she was jealous that Steve at least had his friend in classes, but she was always alone at school.
She would give anything to make all three be in the same school.
She used to ignore what the other girls said about her, they always tried to provoke her and make fun of her, and she tried not to get into trouble so that her mother did not have to miss work because of her.
"She is very ugly,"
She suddenly heard.
She kept ignoring the words, bit her lower lip, and began to beg for the boys to take no longer.
"She wears cheap clothes."
"I hear your father left you to go with another woman."
“No, I heard that his mother sleeps with other men and that is why the father left, now she does it to support them.”
Grace was reaching her limit, although she did not have a family equal to theirs, she was happy with what she had, she knew that her mother was a nurse and not what the girls said.
She also knew that all of them waited until the teachers had already gone home to avoid problems, although they did not believe that they believed her.
"And his brother is unbearable, he seems in need of love,” another girl said.
"It's disgusting," one of the girls supported.
Grace narrowed her eyes, she had already reached her limit, she would not tolerate anymore.
“What did you say about my brother?” she asked, turning and approaching the group.
She could stand them talking badly about her, but not about her mom or Steve, they all treated Steve badly without really knowing him.
"What you heard silly," the girl replied maliciously.
Grace pounced on the girl, she was going to give her what she deserved so she would not mess with her family again. The others started screaming in fear.
"Don't speak ill of my family again," Grace said as she tugged at the bow that was in the girl's hair.
Steve and Bucky arrived at that time.
"Is that Grace?" Bucky asked, trying to analyze what was happening.
Steve immediately ran to the girls and tried to grab his twin.
"Grace, calm down," he asked without success.
Bucky reached out to grab Grace and pulled away from the girl
"Wild," the girl stammered.
"Are you okay? Excuse my sister," said Steve and held out his hand to help her.
"Get away from me," the girl screeched and stood up.
"We better get going," Bucky whispered to Steve without releasing grace.
“What happened?” Steve asked on the way home.
"I gave her a good lesson, she asked for it."
"Grace, you should behave like a lady, sometimes I think you get into a lot of trouble," Steve scolded her.
"Shut up, you're doing worse," Grace countered.
"You always end up like a damsel in distress ..."
“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”
"I didn't know you knew how to fight," Bucky commented.
"I’ve learned from you," she answered proudly.
"But what did they do to you? You can't just hit the girls just because," Steve continued scolding.
“She said horrible things about our family, about me, about mom, about you, she started.”
"Your bow and part of your dress are torn," Bucky observed.
“What?”
Grace removed her bow and checked her dress, determining that it was something that could be easily arranged around the house.
"I'll fix it before Mom gets home."
She only hoped that the next day she would not have problems at school because of the girl.
In My Head - Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge
Prompt: “I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”
Pairing: Steve Rogers X female reader
Summary: Being a technological genius had its ups and downs. The downs being you spent more time in your head than you did in the real world. What happens when that character trait has you seeing a whole new side to Steve Rogers? A lot of new sides.
Author’s Note: Thank you @crushedbyhyperbole ! This was a lot of fun and congratulations on 200 followers! <3
***
It was your fault, really. You were never known for being overtly present. In truth, unless it was completely required, focusing on the world around you was rarely your main priority. Some called you spacey. Others an airhead. But really it was just that you had more things to think about than where you were going or what the people around you were doing. Your high functioning intelligence made things like algorithms and technical designs the forefront of your attention, while everything else just seemed to blend into the background. White noise. That’s why Tony saw you as such an asset to his lab. There was nothing he loved more than someone who focused on their work so much that everything else took the back burner. So, you never felt the need to be apologetic about your airy personality. If Tony found it acceptable and you found it natural, then why was there a need to change?
Well, the events of that afternoon were a testament to the downfalls of your nature. You were stuck on a problem. You couldn’t get the circuitry on Nat’s new and improved Black Widow’s Bites. It kept shorting out and it was driving you insane. The frustration was manifesting itself throughout your body, agitation and pent up energy coursing through your veins. Deciding to run it off, you left your lab in the basement of the compound and made your way to the gym. Hopping onto one of the many treadmills, you whipped out a strenuous three miles, letting your mind wander over your problem with each step. By the time you stopped the machine, you were sweaty, out of breath, and thoroughly satisfied. You were pretty positive you’d fixed the circuitry issue, the only thing left to do was go back to the lab and apply it physically. Lost in thought, you wandered into the locker room, planning on rinsing off and changing into your work clothes. Steam billowed from the shower area, the sound of water running from a single stall. Making your way to your locker, you began to strip in front of it. Dirty clothes piled on the bench in front of you, you opened your locker to grab your towel and soap only to find it empty. What the heck? Where were your clothes? Maybe you were in front of the wrong one. Opening the locker next to it, you found that one empty as well. A few more lockers opened, and you were thoroughly confused. Empty. All of them empty. You were sure that you’d chosen a locker in that area. Coming back to reality in a rare moment of clarity, you looked around you to see that yes, you were in a locker room, but it looked wrong. Everything seemed…flipped.
The squeak of the shower faucet turning off caught your attention instinctually. Looking to your left, you saw the curtain slide open and to your horror Steve Rogers completely naked. You stood frozen; eyes wide as you took in his impressive form. Sinewy, wet muscle stretched from his traps to his obliques, the sharp cut of his adonis belt pointing like an arrow to a light brown patch of curls. What sat below, caught you completely off guard. Steven Grant Rogers had the largest cock you had ever seen in your life. It was a few moments before Steve noticed you as well. Wide eyed and slack jawed, the time ticked on as the two of you stood rooted to the spot in shock, unable to look away from each other’s naked forms. The distant sound of heavy gym equipment broke you from your trance and you let out a squeak, breaking Steve from his stupor as well.
“What the hell (Y/N)!?” exclaimed Steve, covering himself with his hands and staring up at the ceiling. But it was too late, you’d seen it all and so had he. “Why are you naked?!”
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” you cried, running from the room and putting your clothes on as quickly as possible without tripping. You ran barefoot through the gym, your shoes long forgotten on the bench in the locker room. You didn’t stop until you made it all the way to your lab and even then, you didn’t stop.
You’d been in your lab for the past week, working nonstop. Locking yourself away seemed like the best option, and so you only left the small space for necessary provisions like food and bathroom breaks. The loveseat you kept in the room had become incredibly handy as well, allowing you to take small cat naps in between your work. You hoped that if you could keep your mind occupied, you wouldn’t think about what you’d seen. You wouldn’t think about all that you’d seen. All that he’d seen. But alas, it was no use. All the important and creative things that usually floated through your mind, blinding you to the outside world, were gone. Replaced by more…inappropriate but equally creative things.
Lost in a vivid daydream of riding Captain Steve Rogers till the cows came home, you didn’t realize that the soldering iron you’d been using had slipped from your grip and was currently burning a hole through the sleeve of your shirt. When the searing pain of 400 degrees Celsius came into contact with your arm, you jumped back clutching your arm to your chest.
“Fuck! Motherfucking fuck! Jesus motherfucking Christ! Mother fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scrambled to the sink, yanking up your sleeve and turning the cold water on high.
“Whoa, put a quarter in the swear jar, why don’t ya?” Natasha’s voice rang through the room, obviously having heard your outburst. She came to your side, observing your arm through the clear stream of water, a bored expression plastered her face. “Ehh, I’ve seen worse.”
“You’ve seen worse than a 400 degree Celsius burn?” you asked incredulously, the burning sensation beginning to dwindle as the cold water numbed the pain and flesh.
“Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen what a Vietnam land mine can do to a man, have you?” Natasha asked with blasé, picking up the soldering iron from the floor and turning it off before carefully placing it in its stand.
“Point made,” you responded, turning the water off and delicately toweling off the area. You inspected your arm further; it wasn’t the worst thing you’d done to yourself in the lab. It may blister, but not bad enough to warrant a hospital visit. Moving to the first aid kit, you pulled out the burn cream and ointment, applying it to your arm followed by a large bandage.
“You’ve been noticeably absent. What’s been keeping you all cooped up?” Nat asked. Her tone was casual, but you’d known her long enough to know that no question from Natasha Romanov was ever casual. Chances are, by the time she was asking you a question she already knew the answer.
“I take it you’ve spoken to Steve then,” you sighed, moving to your workbench and beginning to fiddle with the first thing you saw.
“Something like that—" Natasha smirked “—If you count him glaring at me and insisting it was none of my business, then yes it was a riveting conversation.”
“Then you don’t know what happened?”
“I may have gotten Steve to spill the beans,” said Nat, fighting a small smirk. You rolled your eyes. Spies and their interrogation skills.
“I didn’t mean to walk in on him! I was thinking about how to fix your stupid bites and—”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” Natasha raised a speculative eyebrow at you, making you backtrack.
“No, no, I just—I saw…I saw him naked Nat! And he saw me naked and…”
“And?” Natasha asked, not fazed at all as to why it was such a big deal.
“I saw him naked and I liked it!” you admitted, leaning over your workbench and burying your face into the cold metal top.
You heard the crass bark of Natasha’s laughter, “Of course you liked it (Y/N), he’s a super soldier. I doubt you’d find a guy nearly as built as him.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about his…ya know!”
“Oh? Please elaborate,” said Natasha, leaning against the workbench opposite of you.
With a heavy sigh, you stood up, holding out your hands out to represent the length of Steve’s well…length. Natasha gasped, “No! You’re lying!”
“I swear to you, I saw it! It was like a baby’s arm holding an apple!”
“Okay – you have officially been spending too much time with Tony,” said Natasha, walking over to you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “Look – you’re going to have to get over this sooner rather than later and by sooner, I mean a few seconds because I may have agreed to distract you so that you couldn’t run when Steve came down here to talk to you.”
“You what?!”
Just as you made to run for the door, Steve walked through it, the entirety of him making the space feel small. You stood there, staring at each other in awkward silence.
“Well—" said Natasha cutting the tension “—I can see that the two of you have a lot to discuss. I’ll just be going.”
And with that the red head was gone, leaving the two of you to stand in silence. You stared at the ground, unable to look at the man without thinking about his…oh god, you couldn’t even say it in your head. In all honesty, it shouldn’t be surprising that the super soldier was packing, but you never expected it to be so MASSIVE. God, this was wrong. He was a human being. Not just some piece of meat. Some thick…big…piece of delicious meat.
“Look, about what happened—” Steve began, but you cut him off.
“I’m so sorry Steve. Really, I wasn’t thinking, and I thought I walked into the women’s locker room and apparently it was the men’s locker room and I really shouldn’t have ogled you the way I did and—”
Steve chuckled, stopping your apology in its tracks, “You’re sorry? Here I thought you were upset with me for checking you out.”
“Truthfully, I didn’t even notice. I was too…um, you were checking me out?”
Steve went bright red, “Well, I mean, yea. You’re a beautiful woman and you were naked. I mean, I’m Captain America, but I’m no saint.”
“Oh.” You were quiet, letting his words settle. Steve thought you were beautiful. That was news to you. “Well, I guess while we’re being honest, you were pretty impressive to look at as well.” Some parts more than others.
“And what parts would that be?”
It wasn’t until Steve asked, eyebrows raised and an amused look on his face that you realized you’d said that last part aloud. Shit.
“Is it my…arms? Legs? Chest?” Steve asked, stepped towards you slowly with a teasing tone in his voice.
“Oh my god,” you groaned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You were thoroughly embarrassed.
“Come on (Y/N), tell me. I need to know what my best feature is.” Clearly Steve was trying to lighten the mood, but if he knew what you really thought his ‘best feature’ was, he wouldn’t be treating this so lightly.
“I don’t really want to—”
“Is it my shoulders? I tend to get complimented on them a lot. Or is it my—”
“Your penis! It was your penis Steve! You literally have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen!” Your hands flew to your mouth, as if you could retroactively grab the words and stuff them back into your brain.
Shock splashed across Steve’s face before quickly dissolving into something different. He took another step towards you, crossing his arms and emphasizing the bulging muscles of his upper body.
“Oh my god. I am absolutely mortified. Please, can we just pretend like I didn’t just—”
“Like you didn’t just say I have the biggest dick you’ve ever seen?” Steve asked, smirking down at you, arms still crossed. The words sounded so delicious coming from his lips and heat began to pool in your center.
“Jesus…yes. That. Can we just pretend like I didn’t say that?” you pleaded. The last thing you needed was Steve of all people teasing you about this.
“Hmmmmm, I don’t think I can.” Steve looked down at you in mock thought, his expression speculative.
“Steve, please. Don’t do this,” you pleaded again, turning away from him and moving across the lab to fuss with some equipment. Maybe if you physically distanced yourself, he’d understand that you didn’t find the joke funny in the least. It might also calm you down – your nipples were so hard you were sure they could be seen through the many layers of clothing you wore.
“Do what?” Steve asked from behind you, his voice slowly growing louder as he approached your turned figure. “I’m just curious. Tell me, have you been thinking about my cock all week? Is that why you’ve been hiding? Avoiding me? Because you can’t stop thinking about it?”
You turned, meeting the hard flesh of his chest. How had he snuck up on you so easily? His words were antagonistic, but seeing his face up close, you realized that his eyes held a dangerous glint to them. You used your tongue to wet your lips, throat suddenly feeling dry, “I um…I—that’s—well that’s just ridiculous.”
“Really? I don’t think so—” He uncrossed his arms, leaning down to brace them against the countertop behind you, invading your space “—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your body either. How it looked. How it would feel in my hands. Would it would be like to have you under me. Over me. Those perfect lips wrapped around me.”
His words had you in a trance. Had Steve really been fantasizing about you the way you’d been fantasizing about him? There was no way he was interested in you seriously. What would he want with the space cadet in the labs? It had to be purely physical. You’d never been one for casual anything. Still, the thought of his hard, long member in your mouth made you salivate. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together and a small whimper escaping your lips.
“Oh (Y/N), sweetie. If you wanted a taste, all you had to do was ask,” said Steve, his tone condescending. Reaching a hand up, he tapped you lightly on the nose before pushing away from you and reaching for his belt. You watched as he undid the buckle followed by the button of his slacks and then slowly slid his zipper down. Slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, he pushed the fabric down just enough to reveal the entirety of him. He was even bigger than you remembered – although that might be because the last time you’d seen it, he’d been fully flaccid. Now, you watched as the smooth skin slowly tightened as he grew in length. He grasped himself in one of his large hands and stroked himself a few times, smirking confidently at your slack expression.
“Well—” he motioned down to his fisted cock “—get on your knees sweetie. It’s not going to suck itself.”
The words should have angered you. They should have sparked a small flame of defiance that said, ‘suck it yourself, you asshole’. He was being presumptuous, cocky, demeaning.
And yet…
You dropped to your knees, wasting no time as you wrapped your lips around the thick head. He was thick, unimaginably so, but that didn’t deter you. Relaxing your jaw, you let your tongue run along the underside of the tip. He tasted heady, raw, masculine. The musk of his skin and salt of his precum coated your tongue as you took him deeper. Forming a seal around what length you could manage, you sucked languidly, bringing a hand up to grip the sizable rest of him.
Steve moaned, a hand coming down to lightly rest of the top of your head as you bobbed on his cock, “That’s it. What a little cock slut. You like that? You like worshipping this dick? You can barely get halfway down but look at you try. It’s so adorable.”
You shuddered, his words causing a visceral reaction in your body. You could feel it, the wetness building between your legs. Sinking deeper onto his length, relaxing your throat and allowing just the tip to pass the threshold, you slid a hand down your body and up your skirt. Not even making it to the inside of your panties, you felt the proof of your arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. You moaned, trailing your fingertips over the slick and up to meet your soaked center.
Fingers threaded into the hair on the back of your head and yanked harshly. You cried out, reaching up to grip Steve’s forearm as he pulled you roughly off his cock and back up to your feet.
“Look at you,” he said, running a thumb over your spit soaked lips, the saliva dribbling down your chin as you breathed heavily. “So pretty.” He pressed his thumb past your lips, letting it rest against the flat of your tongue as he gripped your jaw tightly in his hand. Slowly, he slid the digit further and further back before removing it and replacing it with two of his fingers. When he reached the back of your throat and met no resistance he kept going, a look of pride on his face. He was impressed. He fucked your throat with his fingers, your hair still gripped painfully in his other hand. When he was satisfied, he pulled his wet fingers from your mouth and brought them down below your skirt, shoving past your panties and using the moisture to rub your already sopping cunt. You whimpered at his touch.
His eyes never left yours, his unwavering gaze challenging you to say something. To say anything resembling a no. It was like a test. A test to see how far he could push you. How far you’d let him push the boundaries of what was and was not acceptable. So, this was what the great Captain America was into. You could tell he liked to see you like this, pliable like putty in his hands. His to shape and mold. You could see it in the way he almost vibrated with satisfaction when you gave in. When you let him use you like an object. In that moment, you never felt more like an object. Steve made you feel like you were nothing but a body to play with and use for his pleasure. The way he looked at you. Like he wanted to possess you. No. Like he already owned you. Your mind told you to run. It told you that everything he was doing was wrong. But your body, your body had never felt so alive. If Steve Rogers wanted to treat you like an object, then call you a fucking lamp.
Sighing in satisfaction, Steve gripped your hair tighter and began to walk, dragging you towards your small loveseat. Tripping over yourself, you attempted to keep up with his long, fast strides. He pulled you roughly onto the cushions, positioning you onto your back with your head hanging off the side. Your skin prickled with anticipation as he flipped your skirt up, yanking the thin material of your panties down your legs. Next was your shirt – body raising off the couch long enough for him to pull the material over your head. The cups of your bra were pulled roughly down, revealing the soft flesh of your breasts, nipples peaked. He gave the sensitive tips a gentle squeeze; your body arched into his touch.
“So sensitive. I like that,” Steve hummed, moving to stand above your head. Gripping his shaft, he pressed the tip to the seam of your lips, “Open.”
You did as you were told, opening wide to allow his length to slowly slide into your mouth. Conscientious of your teeth, you took him as deep as you could. When his cock met the barrier of your throat, Steve’s hand came down to stroke the delicate skin of your neck. He ran the tips of his fingers along the length, his touch feather light.
“Relax. Breathe through your nose.” His voice was firm and commanding. Tilting your head further back, you relaxed your tongue and throat, allowing him to slide further and further until his pubic bone met your chin. At the realization that you had managed to take all of him down your throat, your pussy clenched, and clit throbbed. Breathing heavily through your nose, you waited as Steve kept himself still inside your mouth.
“Now—" Steve began, breath coming in rough pants, “—I’m going to fuck this tight little throat of yours. How does that sound?”
You moaned around his length, making him growl at the vibrations.
“Oh, I think you like that. Why don’t you touch that little pussy? Play with your little clit while I fuck your throat with my cock.”
You touched yourself, the sweet pull of his erection only adding to your arousal as he began to thrust in and out of you. He was gentle at first, taking his time. But very quickly his pace became erratic and so did your fingers at your center. Dipping your hand down, you fingered yourself, feeling the building sensation of an orgasm on the brink already. A second hand at your core caught you off guard. Steve was leaning over you, his own hand pushing your fingers out of the way and diving into your depths. His fingers were longer and wider than your own, reaching places previously untouched.
“Fuck! You are absolutely dripping. Does this turn you on? My fat cock using your little throat? If I’d known you were such a little slut for big cock, I would have shown it to you a long time ago.” He continued to finger you, your own hand at your clit, hips bucking uncontrollably as you chased your completion. You were growing lightheaded, unable to breathe through your nose as well, as he used you for his pleasure.
“You’re close. I can feel it. Come on my fingers. Come on my fingers while I come down this tight little fuck hole,” demanded Steve, fingers picking up pace. His other hand wrapped around your throat, feeling his own cock moving through the thin layer of flesh. He squeezed ever so lightly, the pressure making him moan. Your vision began to turn black, head drifting ever higher as the coil in your womb grew tighter and tighter until it was too much. Your body convulsed under him, crying weakly around his length as your orgasm took over. The last thing making it into the conscious forefront of your mind, the sound of Steve’s own release and the warm sensation of his cum splashing down your throat.
When you came back to reality, you found yourself wrapped up in the warm arms of a certain super soldier. Seated on his lap, he rocked you gently, a large hand stroking your back, your hair, your face. Blinking up at him, he smiled down at you. All traces of the hard, patronizing, possessive man were gone. Replaced with the soft, kind eyes of the Steve Rogers you and the rest of the world knew.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, voice soft, as he stroked your cheek.
Your own ‘hi’ came out cracked and hoarse, evidence of the rough session that had just occurred. Steve looked down at you, his face a mixture of adoration and regret.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, “I’m so sorry (Y/N). I didn’t mean to lose control like that, I just—you just—” The words escaped him. He looked away exasperatedly.
You reached a hand up, cupping his face and making him look back down at you, “Hey, I’m okay. I’m a big girl. You didn’t break me.”
You gave him a small smile, grateful when he returned it.
“Are you sure? I mean, you passed out,” Steve said, giving you a look akin to a kicked puppy.
Who was this man, that he could go from dominant and possessive to sweet and child-like so quickly? Shaking your head, you laughed lightly, lifting up to place a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his lips soft and firm against your own. He held you close, arms strong and protective around you. Pulling away, you looked up into the blue azure of his eyes, “I’m sure. Besides, you know me – always stuck in my head.”
So this is my second submission to @crushedbyhyperbole‘s writing challenge! I have a lot of issues with self image and I know I’m not the only one in the world. So I thought this would be a sweet one-shot to write. And I wanted to address in this that it is about being comfortable in what you wear. Whatever that is, fucking go for it, right? And Thor most certainly agrees.
Pairing: Thor x Curvy!Reader
Prompt: Costs an arm and a leg
Summary: Thor has noticed Y/N around the compound, but had no idea that she noticed him. When she does something unbelievably kind for him, he knows he has to take some time to get to know this wonderful woman a little better.
Warnings: None, I think? I mean, we got a confident reader here! Embrace that and the fact that Thor thinks Y/N is utterly adorable???
Thor never quite understood how “cost” worked in Midgard. As a prince, he never had to worry about that. Especially in a world like Asgard. But Midgard – or Earth – was something else entirely. He’d seen Tony spend money like it was nothing. He’d dropped millions on new tech and gifts for the Avengers. He paid for the Spider-child’s new outfit just to keep the kid safe.
So why was it that Tony’s new techie seemed so careful when it came to spending money?
At least, that’s what Thor had to believe. He had been watching Tony and Bruce at first, truly, that was his intention. But when Y/N had come in for the day, he was definitely distracted. Her presence had that affect on him. And it was frustrating to say the least. Looking at her now, he couldn’t help but smile. She had one of those almost comedically large mugs in hand, but he wasn’t sure whether it was coffee or tea. Her hair was pulled up and out of her makeup-free face and she was wearing leggings with a hoodie.
It was details like that – her state of dress that made him even more curious about her. He liked that she didn’t dress up, but something about Midgard’s women made it clear that it was an expectation. Women were supposed to wear a face full of warpaint, heels that made painful blisters according to Pepper, and dresses that the infamous Natasha used on her missions. So did Y/N simply not care? Or did she find herself that comfortable in the presence of the Avengers?
Thor found himself hoping it was the latter.
“Hey, Thunder brains. Yoohoo!” Tony called, earning a jerk of the head from the Asgardian. “You done staring at my favorite employee?”
Thor glanced back at her. If it weren’t for the blush already tinting her cheeks and ears, he would have thought she didn’t hear them. But she did. And knowing that made him smile. “What is it your science has to show me, Stark?”
“Oh, it isn’t our science.” Tony didn’t bother to hide that arrogant smirk of his. And instead of elaborating, he and Bruce shared a look that left Thor feeling even more clueless.
He wasn’t always the fastest to pick up on Tony’s games. There were always too many for him to keep track of, so they made an agreement. Tony could ask one question regarding Mjolnir a week and Thor could participate only in games he was interested in. This one left him a little interested, though he didn’t like having to admit it. “What are you talking about now, Stark?”
“It’s mine.”
Thor spun around, the chair he was sitting on squeaking from the new action. Y/N was standing in the doorway, thick thighs on full display and curves prominent despite the hoodie that was clearly a size too large. Her hands were tucked into her sleeves, only her fingers peeking through as she fidgeted with the hem. With her large frames and strands of hair framing her face, she looked absolutely adorable. She nudged her frames on top of her head, only needing them for reading after all.
“Yours? And what is it you’ve created that would require my viewing?” Thor smiled at her, unable to stop himself. He liked her voice and was certain that he could listen to her talk all day. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. She was fidgeting, something he wasn’t used to seeing from his fellow teammates. It was so human. So simple and yet so utterly human.
He liked it. He liked that she was awkward and that she was even comfortable in it.
“Well…” She trailed off, shifting from one foot to the other. “I noticed that you were hanging around the compound more, going off on more missions with the team.”
“Yes, it is my duty as an Avenger. Is it not?”
“No, it is.” She nodded to assure that she did, in fact, agree with him. “But out of everyone on the team, you’re the only one that has family and yet still has such limited access to them.”
“I can come and go from Asgard when I please, Lady Y/N.”
“You say that, but you don’t.”
Thor’s brow furrowed as he watched her. How much had she been paying attention to? “No…I don’t.” He rose to his feet. “The more visits I take part in between Asgard and Midgard, the more I find myself arguing with my father. To avoid these confrontations, I’ve chosen to spend my time where I’m needed.”
“Odin, right?”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, Odin, the Allfather.”
“Well,” Tony cleared his throat. Always one to pull the attention back to him, wasn’t he? “Since we’re all about creative inventions at Stark Industries, I funded her idea.”
“And what idea was this?”
“Hello? I can see you; can you see me?”
Thor froze as soon as he heard that voice. He knew that voice. He moved slow, turning and seeing a holographic video call from – “Mother?”
“Thor!” Frigga grinned, unable to contain her joy. She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers brushing what he could only guess was her own image of the room.
“How is this possible?” Thor blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, the smile he inherited from his mother splitting his face in half. He was filled with more genuine joy than Tony or Bruce had ever seen.
Tony glanced at Y/N, noticing the way she was biting her lip to keep her smile tucked away. Oh, she was a clever girl, she was. But no one could hide feelings like that from Tony. Especially when he was paying them. “Come on, Bruce.” He and the other scientist made their way out, but Tony paused just as he reached Y/N’s side.
She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Mr. Stark?”
“Costs an arm and a leg, but…” The two looked back at Thor. He was already engrossed in the conversation he was having with his mother. “I can see why you’d want to make him smile like that. I still do anything to see Pep with that look on her face.”
Y/N tensed, quickly looking back to form an argument, but it was too late. Tony was already gone. She huffed, perching her glasses back on her nose as she glanced at the God of Thunder. She would never admit it out loud, but she really liked the way his eyes lit up in moments like this. But no, she could never admit it. Instead, she went back to her desk and started tinkering away on yet another project.
—–
Hours had passed since Y/N had revealed her gift for Thor. She had been meticulously working on a new code ever since, but it seemed she was far too sleepy to keep her head up anymore. Her head was held up by her hand, hair having fallen loose, and glasses still propped and ready on her nose – as if anticipating she would wake up at any moment.
Thor watched, listening to the soft murmurs slipping past her lips. How she managed to hide herself here, he would never understand. Pulling up a chair, he sat on the opposite side of her desk. The computer created a sort of wall between them, but his height gave him the advantage of still seeing her. He didn’t understand it – how was someone able to look so brilliant even completely asleep?
“Y/N?”
She jolted, waking as if she had been struck by lightning. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. Rubbing at them tiredly, she was unable to stifle her yawn. He wondered how much sleep she had gotten the night before. Adjusting her glasses, she ran her fingers through her hair and out of her face before realizing that it was Thor that had spoken to her. And even though he was sitting on the opposite side of her desk, with a massive monitor between them, he was sitting close.
Really close.
“I – Uh…What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
She squeaked, checking the phone that was on the desk. “Fuck…I’ve been here all day…”
“As have I.”
Y/N looked up when she heard that, her smile a little too contagious. Thor mirrored her, leaning forward on the desk and propping his chin on the monitor. She giggled, ducking her head and adjusting her glasses. It seemed to be another habit of hers. “I’m glad to hear that it was a success.”
“What made you do it? I mean, how were you even able to do that? I thought the Bifrost is the only way to connect Asgard to any of the other realms.”
“That’s what everyone thinks until someone gets stubborn enough.”
“And is that what you were? Stubborn enough?”
Y/N hid her smile before her interlaced fingers. Her eyes sparked with something he didn’t understand but wanted to spend a lifetime getting to know. “A scientist never reveals her secrets.”
“I thought that was what your people call magicians.”
Y/N laughed at that. “Either way, I’ll never tell.”
“Fine, keep your secrets.” He tilted his head, watching her curiously. “But contacting my mother?”
“That was actually trickier than the science part. But I had a little help from Heimdall.”
“Heimdall?” He laughed wholeheartedly as he ran a hand over his face. This woman was determined, he’d give her that. And absolutely unbelievable. “You convinced Heimdall to keep a secret from the Allfather?”
“What, like it’s hard?”
“Oh, you are a tease, aren’t you, Lady Y/N? Keeping all of these secrets.”
She froze at that, rosy blush appearing on her cheeks once more. “I – Um…” Silence fell between them. He was afraid he’d mis stepped, but then he heard her mumble a soft, “You don’t have to say things like that.”
Thor frowned, tilting his head as he asked, “What do you mean?”
“Just the compliments.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, shrugging. She looked back at the monitor, doing her best to ignore the God that had decided to be a new decoration. “I mean – I don’t exactly look like the other girls in the compound. Save the comments for them, yeah?”
Silence fell again as Thor pondered what she said. “Is that why you wear the clothes you do?”
Y/N scoffed at that. She looked back at him, peeking at him over the rim of her glasses. Thor shifted in his seat, not sure what sort of effect that look gave, but only knowing that he liked it. He liked it a lot.
“No. Not at all.”
“Is that what you Midgards call sarcasm?” She tilted her head up and it was then he noticed that nope, she wasn’t being sarcastic. She was being serious. And it sounded like he was insulting her. “I didn’t mean to imply that – “
She held up a hand, silencing him. “I know. When you spend too much time around Tony, it gets hard to tell the difference. But no, that’s not why I wear the clothes I do. I might be self-conscious from time to time, but I wear these clothes because I’m normally in an empty lab for hours on end. You won’t see me wearing some ridiculous dress and a pair of heels unless I want to. And that’s the way it should be.”
Thor grinned when she finished her speech.
“Good.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by that little declaration. “Good?”
“Yes, good. I like seeing you like this. The rest of the women here are always dressed to the extremes. If that is what they want, then good for them. But I like that this is what you want. To be yourself.”
“Uh…thank you, Thor.”
“Thank you, Lady Y/N.”
She turned her gaze back to her work, clearly not planning to leave any time soon. As much as Thor didn’t mind that her attention had diverted back to her passions, he wished the conversation hadn’t ended so abruptly. However, he wouldn’t force his presence on her. Instead he tucked his chair back where it belonged and made his exit.
“Um, Thor?”
He looked back, surprised that she had even realized he’d walked away. “Yes, Lady Y/N?”
“I’m about to grab some food and bring it back in here. Do you…” She shrugged, trying to make it seem like this wasn’t that big of a deal. But what she didn’t realize was that it was a bigger deal to Thor than it was to her. “Do you want to join me? I could use the company.”
He turned to face her, that impish grin back in place. “Of course, but only on one condition.”
“What condition is that?”
“If we’re calling this a date, I get to ask you on the second.”
Y/N bit her lip, already knowing her answer. “It’s a deal.”
Pairing: Brock Rumlow X OFC (Stella Grace Rogers).
Word count: 2678 words.
Summary: Stella Grace Rogers believed that her twin had died that day, Steve did not know that he had passed with her when he woke up until they found her, what will happen when they meet again? And when Grace meets a certain STRIKE Commander?
Warnings: None at the moment.
A/N: This is my entry to the @peterman-spideyparker‘s Kristen’s 2020 Writing Challenge! With the prompt #12:
“Hey, I know you’re hurting…but, you’re not alone, okay?”
Also is my entry to the @crushedbyhyperbole ‘s Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge with the Hyperbole dialogue prompt #24:
“I’d rather stab myself in the eye than look at you for one minute longer”
And my entry to the @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam ‘s 200 Celebration Writing Challenge with the Movie/Series/Book quote prompts #3 and #21 and the dialogue prompt #12:
A: “No weapons. No friends. No hope. Take all that away, and what is left?”
B: “Me”
“At the end of the day, you’re a garden rose, and that bitch is a weed”
“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage”
My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English, if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.
I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
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Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI
2012
Steve had searched for her in many places without success, he could not deny that he felt incomplete, practically all their lives they had been together, if something bad had happened to him it was his fault ... for having insisted on joining the army ... if he had never done so...
As soon as he received the news, he was afraid that it would be completed with the word “dead”.
"How do you know it is her?"
"From the photos, Cap, it's in the files," Fury explained.
What had happened to her then?
"We can do the DNA analysis to make sure if you want," Maria suggested.
"It is not necessary, I could recognize her anywhere, and she is special ... at least for me”
"That is clear to us, Cap, that's the reason we notified you immediately," Nick said.
“Is she…?”
He didn't dare say it, but needed to know if she was dead… he would have to see how to get on with his life, although he wasn't sure if he could recover from that news.
"She is alive, it seems in perfect condition, in fact, she seems asleep," Maria said.
Steve sighed more calmly, they were both fulfilling the promise they made when they were children.
"What happened to her?" Steve asked.
“We do not know”.
"I can't help wondering how took the news of what happened to me when they told her, sometimes I came to believe she become angry, gone and continued her life in the shadows," Steve confessed.
"As soon as she wakes she'll tell us," Nick assured.
Since Steve woke up, he felt incomplete, nothing was the same without Grace, his twin, surely she had felt the same after what had happened to him, and would she forgive him?
At first, he thought that she had continued with her life, which pleased him but at the same time saddened him, since all his life -until before he fell on the ice- they had been together, even before being born having shared the womb.
There was a constant thought in his head from the first day, maybe she had a family if so he would love to meet her children and grandchildren, to ask them how her life had been like, would she have found a good partner who will take care of her and love her?
That thought made him laugh, Grace was the one who always took care of him and defended him, even though she was only twenty minutes younger than him, although when they both got into trouble Bucky was the one who came to rescue them.
He missed both of them so much, Bucky was dead ... but he didn't know what had happened to her, he had been looking everywhere, the History books only referred to him, they didn't mention anything about Grace, not finding the information became concerned, it was as if they had wanted to erase the existence of his sister from the face of the Earth until he searched the S.H.I.E.L.D. files, there he found the news that she had also disappeared four months after he searched everywhere, he did not find it.
But now the Agency had found her and he was urged to wake up; if he was with his twin then everything else would be easier
From that moment in which Steve received the news he had not separated from her, he better than anyone knew the shock that it would be to wake up at this time for her too, he knew her perfectly and better than anyone.
The favorite song was playing in the room, Grace began to think that maybe everything that had happened had been a nightmare the last thing she remembered, if she woke up she would be without her twin, turning to feel miserable and incomplete, having to deal with a lot of things that she did not want, looking for a way to escape the proposal that had been made to her, so it was not such a good idea to wake up, although she could not be asleep all her life either.
She opened her eyes slowly, trying to adjust them to the light, suddenly she seemed to see a familiar figure, she blinked several times to be able to focus, when she saw who was in front of her, she got out of bed practically with a jump, she could not believe it, surely she was dreaming or hallucinating.
"Grace, calm down, it's me, Stevie," he said cautiously.
"No, no, it's a hallucination, you're dead, and this is not possible."
"No, wait, let me explain," Steve asked.
"Or maybe I'm dead, I'm in heaven and that's why you're here," the girl murmured without moving.
Steve approached her to try to reassure her.
"It's me, seriously, I'm alive and so are you," his twin assured him.
He took her hand carefully, knew what kind of reaction he might have, didn't want to upset her anymore, she squeezed him.
“Stevie? How? That day the communication was cut, I think you could not hear me, then they told me that they did not know where the ship you were on had fallen, “Grace said.
“It is difficult to explain, I have many things to tell you and none is easy.”
"Are you really real?"
Grace hugged her twin, she needed to check that it was indeed neither a dream nor an illusion. Many times she had had that dream, but it was only that, when they separated, she smiled when she saw that he was still there.
"Simmons will come to check on you, I have to tell you that you are awake," he informed her.
“Simmons?”
"She is one of the best scientists in S.H.I.E.L.D., I think you will feel comfortable if it is her."
“S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
It was obvious that she didn't know what his brother was talking about.
“Now that's how the Strategic Scientific Reserve is known. I'll update you soon, okay?”
“Why does she want to check me?”
“We were almost 70 years missing.”
“What!? How did I survive? ”Grace asked.
"I don't know, but she needs to check that you don't have any damage, so wait here a moment, I'll go for her."
Grace sat on the edge of the bed, she still didn't understand what had happened, and she wasn't even sure what had happened, someone knocked on the door to get her out of her thoughts.
“Ahead.”
"Lieutenant Rogers, I am Jemma Simmons," the scientist introduced herself.
"You have her accent," Grace said without thinking.
“Pardon?”
Grace looked her in the eyes, she feared there was the possibility that she was a relative of that woman, however, Jemma's eyes gave off something different, she was probably wrong, and then she would investigate.
"No, nothing. I just seem to have the same accent as someone who tried to make life impossible for me in the past."
Jemma nodded, she didn't know who she was referring to.
"I hope that person has had a due," said the scientist.
“I hope so too.”
Jack entered the gym, he had just found out. They would probably have a meeting soon to find out the plan to follow.
"Rogers' sister woke up," Rollins reported.
“So?”
Brock did not stop training, he had never understood why that news caused such a stir.
“Do you think she knows anything about HYDRA?” Jack asked him.
"I don't think she knows more than Rogers, I'm satisfied that I'm not as unbearable as he is," Brock replied.
After the check, Steve entered again.
"I already spoke to Fury, you will go with me to my apartment."
“Do you have a apartment? And who is this Fury guy? ”Grace asked.
"The director," Nick said entering.
After introducing themselves, they left, Grace looked excitedly around her, many things had changed, she did not know if she would be able to adapt. When she entered the apartment she was frozen.
"What is all this?" She asked, astonished to see so many electrical devices.
"Welcome to the modern age, lil’ sis’."
"I think I would have preferred to die."
"Oh come on, it's not that difficult."
"Please tell me I don't have to do that horrible red lipstick again and promote a perfect image," he said, holding his breath.
Steve smiled, he knew how much he hated that lipstick that forced them to wear in the Army.
“At this time you can put on makeup as you like, I think you will like the new century.
“And the war?” Grace asked suddenly.
“They told we won”
“Are there no more wars?”
“Enemies remain, now we protect the Earth if you want you can unite”
“What if they are going to listen and take me into account?” She asked nervously.
She hated the "position" that had been assigned to him, she was never more than an ornament, they never let her make decisions or be in battle, and they always listened to Steve.
” Things are very different now, I promise you.”
There was a knock on the door of the apartment, Steve went to see and a few minutes later he returned to where he had left Grace, who was curiously watching the television screen.
"Who were you talking to?" she asked, still looking at the screen.
“With Kate, the neighbor; she’s a nurse, “Steve replied.
Grace immediately turned to Steve and watched him.
“Really?”
She did not like something, she was going to find out who that woman was.
The last two days had been very stressful, everything was completely different, while Steve was attending to some affairs, she went to the gym, looked indecisively at the punching bag.
"We also have weights," said a male voice behind her.
She was startled to hear it and turned around, Brock was shocked, he had seen the photos, but seeing her in person… she was more beautiful.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you First Lieutenant Rogers."
Grace smiled, they knew her, and they finally knew who she was.
“And you are? “She asked intrigued
“Brock Rumlow, STRIKE Team Commander.”
Brock reached out his hand, she shook it.
"Call me Grace, you have been with me working with brother, right?"
“Yeah, we have had several missions together.”
"I’m sure you hate him," Grace joked.
“Are you as bossy as he is?
"I am worse."
They both laughed.
"Grace, Fury wants to tal ..."
He fell silent when he saw the scene he was witnessing.
"I see you already know each other," Steve finally said.
After leaving Fury's office, they met Nat in the hallway.
"She is Natasha Romanoff."
"Grace Rogers."
"If you need to talk to a girl, you can find me," offered the Russian.
Brock took the report that he hadn't even read and signed it, he felt a little strange, he wasn't sure that something like this had happened to him before, what was he feeling?
He could not stop thinking about Grace Rogers, she seemed to him a very beautiful girl, he wanted to see those blue eyes again, he was sure that they reflected an innocence that he did not think he had ever seen before in his life.
To be honest, if he couldn't conquer her, at least he was content to have sex with her.
He was the third recruit Grace has given me to the hospital in that training.
“Hey, calm down, I think this is how far training goes.”
If she continued like this, the team would probably run out of members.
"I'm fine," the girl attacked.
"You don't look it," Brock replied.
He approached her and took her arm.
“What’s going on?” she barked.
“Hey, I know you're hurt… but, you're not alone, okay?”
"It's all very confusing, I ... is weird ... Steve managed, but I'm not sure I can do it," Grace confessed.
Brock was surprised, he didn't expect such an honest response.
"I can help you if you want," he offered.
He never expected that such an opportunity will present itself.
"Stevie, I don't like the way you get along with the neighbor," Grace complained as she took the cake out of the oven.
"Oh Gracie, come on, she's a good person," Steve defended.
"If you say so, I'll go get my clothes."
“Need help?”
"I can do it by myself and don't even think about touching the cake, I haven't finished decorating it yet," she warned.
She found her torn clothes, knew who was to blame, tried to calm down, Kate reminded him a lot of that woman.
She went to Kate's apartment and knocked on the door, she was going to end that situation once and for all.
"What?" Kate said when she saw her open the door.
“Why did you do it?” Grace asked, showing him the clothes.
"No one wants you here”
“Are you going to prohibit me from living with my brother?”
"I'll figure the way to he kicks you out."
Both women began to argue.
"And for that reason, everyone preferred your brother," Kate said maliciously.
"I'd rather stab myself in the eye than look at you for one minute longer"
Kate closed the door angrily, Grace made a gesture of exasperation and headed towards the apartment just as Steve opened the door.
"What happened?" He asked in dismay.
"Look what your girlfriend did to my clothes," Grace replied aggressively as she showed him the clothes.
“Gracie, to begin she is not my girlfriend, are you sure she was?
“Who else could it be? She hates me, Stevie.”
"Come on, I'm sure you caused it, it's not the first time something like this has happened" Steve defended her.
Grace knew what her brother was referring to, they had had a similar fight in the past.
"Forget it," Grace said.
He tossed Steve's clothes, turned around, and started walking toward the stairs.
“Grace! I didn't mean...”
She ignored his brother and continued walking towards the stairs when he ran into Brock on the stairs, he seemed to have witnessed what happened.
"Brock ... I ... how much did you see?"
“The complete scene”.
“Oh no...”
"At the end of the day, you're a garden rose, and that bitch is a weed"
Grace laughed, at least it seemed like she had someone on her side.
"You are right, what happened?"
"What are you doing here, Rumlow?" Steve asked.
He was going to reach her when he found them.
"I came to leave you some documents."
"I just made a cake, come with me to try it," Grace offered.
"You said it wasn't ready yet," Steve complained.
"I said I wasn't finished decorating it."
Grace tugged on Brock's arm, who was not going to refuse, somehow he was pleased with the situation. Steve shuffled after them.
"What are you doing?" Steve asked, intercepting his twin.
"You owe me and you know it, consider that we are even."
Steve sighed, he didn't have much choice.
"I didn't know you know how to cook," Brock commented when he had the plate with the slice in front of him.
“I used to do it before entering the Army, we had to learn because mom worked most of the day, although Steve always burned food”.
"Grace," Steve warned.
"I am a better chef than you, star spangled man with a plan," Grace scoffed.
"You weren't complaining before," Steve attacked.
"It was eating it or starve to death when I was sick," Grace countered.
"Grace, enough," Steve said.
"Sorry, li’ bro’," Grace said sarcastically.
Brock was trying not to laugh.
Brooklyn, January 1918
Sarah Rogers was at the station to say goodbye to her husband, who would go to war.
"You know I don't want to go and leave you in this state," Joseph said apologetically.
"Duty calls you, we'll be fine, I'll write you letters every week so you know how we are and just return home safely," Sarah asked.
Sarah kissed Joseph goodbye, who boarded the train that would take him to his destination to participate in the war.
Resumen: Stella Grace Rogers creyó que su mellizo había muerto aquel día, Steve no sabía que había pasado con ella cuando él despertó hasta que la encontraron, ¿qué pasará cuando se vuelvan a reunir? ¿Y cuándo Grace conozca a cierto Comandante de STRIKE?
Advertencias: Ninguna hasta el momento.
A/N: Es mi entrada para Kristen’s 2020 Writing Challenge! con la frase #12:
“Hey, sé que estás herida…pero, no estás sola, ¿de acuerdo?”
Así como mi entrada para Cloudy’s 200 Follower Hyperbole Challenge con el diálogo hiperbólico #24:
“Prefiero apuñalarme a mí misma en el ojo que mirarte un minute más”
Y mi entrada para 200 Celebration Writing Challenge con las frases de Películas/Series/libros #3 y #21 y el diálogo #12:
A: “Sin armas. Sin amigos. Sin esperanza. Quita todo eso, y ¿qué es lo que queda?”
B: “Yo”
“Al final del día, eres una rosa de jardín, y esa perra es una hierba”
“No soy una damisela en apuros. Soy una damisela haciendo daño”
No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.
DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.
Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.
Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.
Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI
2012
Steve la había buscado en muchos lugares sin éxito, no podía negar que sentía incompleto, prácticamente toda su vida habían estado juntos, si algo malo le había pasado era culpa de él…por haber insistido en entrar al ejército…si nunca lo hubiera hecho…
En cuanto recibió la noticia tuvo miedo de que fuese completada con la palabra “muerta”.
— ¿Como saben que es ella?—preguntó.
—Por las fotos, Cap, está en los archivos—explicó Fury.
¿Qué era lo que le había pasado entonces?
—Podemos hacer un análisis de ADN para asegurarnos si quieres—propuso Maria.
—No es necesario, podría reconocerla donde fuera, ella es especial…al menos para mí—
—Eso nos queda claro Cap, por eso te hemos avisado de inmediato—aclaró Nick.
— ¿Ella está…?
No se atrevía a decirlo, pero necesitaba saber, si estaba muerta…tendría que ver cómo seguir con su vida, aunque no estaba seguro si se podría reponer de esa noticia.
—Está viva, parece que en perfectas condiciones, de hecho parece dormida—aseguró Maria.
Steve suspiró más tranquilo, ambos estaban cumpliendo la promesa que hicieron de niños.
— ¿Qué fue lo que le pasó?—cuestionó Steve.
—No sabemos.
—No puedo dejar de preguntarme cómo tomó la noticia de lo que me pasó cuando se lo dijeron, a veces llegué a creer que se había enojado, ido y continuado con su vida en las sombras—confesó Steve.
—En cuanto despierte nos contará—aseguro Nick.
Desde que despertó Steve se sentía incompleto, nada era lo mismo sin Grace, su melliza, seguramente ella había sentido lo mismo después de lo que le había pasado a él, ¿lo perdonaría?
Al principio pensó que ella había continuado con su vida, cosa que le alegraba pero a la vez le entristecía, ya que toda su vida -hasta antes que él cayera en el hielo- habían estado juntos, incluso antes de nacer al haber compartido el vientre materno.
Había un pensamiento constante en su cabeza desde el primer día, quizás ella tuvo una familia, si era así le encantaría conocer a sus sobrinos, a los hijos de ellos, que le contaran como había sido la vida de ella, ¿ella habría encontrado una buena pareja que la cuidara y amará?
Ese pensamiento le dio risa, Grace era quien siempre lo cuidaba y defendía, a pesar de que sólo era veinte minutos menor que él, aunque cuando ambos se metían en problemas Bucky era quien llegaba a rescatarlos.
Extrañaba tanto a los dos, Bucky estaba muerto…pero ella, no sabía que era lo que le había pasado, había estado buscando por todos lados, los libros de Historia únicamente se referían a él, no mencionaban nada de Grace, al no encontrar la información se empezó a preocupar, era como si hubiesen querido borrar la existencia de su hermana de la faz de la tierra, hasta que buscó en los archivos de S.H.I.E.L.D., ahí encontró la noticia de que ella también había desaparecido cuatro meses después que él, buscó por todos lados, no la encontró.
Pero ahora la Agencia la había encontrado y a él le urgía que despertara; si estaba con su melliza entonces todo lo demás sería más sencillo
Desde ese momento en el que Steve recibió la noticia no se había separado de ella, él mejor que nadie sabía el shock que sería al despertar en esta época para ella también, la conocía a la perfección y mejor que nadie.
La canción favorita sonaba en la habitación, Grace comenzó a pensar que quizás todo lo que había pasado había sido una pesadilla lo último que recordaba, si despertaba estaría sin su mellizo, volviéndose a sentir miserable e incompleta, teniendo que lidiar con un montón de cosas que no quería, buscando la forma de escapar a la propuesta que le habían realizado, entonces no era tan buena idea despertar, aunque tampoco podía estar toda la vida dormida.
Abrió los ojos lentamente, tratando de ajustarlos a la luz, de pronto le pareció ver una figura conocida, parpadeó varias veces para poder enfocar, cuando distinguió a quien tenía enfrente se levantó de la cama prácticamente de un salto, no podía creerlo, seguramente estaba soñando o alucinando.
—Gracie, calma soy yo, Stevie—dijo con cautela.
—No, no, es una alucinación, tú estás muerto, esto no es posible.
—No, espera, déjame explicarte—pidió Steve.
—O quizás yo estoy muerta, estoy en el cielo y por eso tú estás aquí—murmuró la chica sin moverse.
Steve se acercó a ella para tratar de tranquilizarla.
—Soy yo, en serio, estoy vivo y tú también—le aseguró su mellizo.
La tomó de la mano con cuidado, sabía qué tipo de reacción podría tener, no quería alterarla más, ella le apretó.
— ¿Stevie? ¿Cómo? Ese día la comunicación se cortó, creo que no me alcanzaste a escuchar, luego me dijeron que no sabían dónde había caído la nave en la que ibas—dijo Grace.
—Es difícil de explicar, tengo muchas cosas que contarte y ninguna es fácil.
— ¿En serio eres real?—preguntó.
Grace abrazó a su mellizo, necesitaba comprobar que efectivamente no era un sueño ni una ilusión. Muchas veces había tenido ese sueño, pero no era más que eso, cuando se separaron, ella sonrió al ver que él seguía ahí.
—Simmons, vendrá a revisarte, tengo que ir a avisar que ya despertaste—le informó.
— ¿Simmons?
—Ella es una de las mejores científicas de S.H.I.E.L.D., creo que te sentirás a gusto si es ella.
— ¿S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Era obvio que ella no sabía de lo que le hablaba su hermano.
—Ahora así se le conoce a la Reserva Científica Estratégica. Te pondré al corriente pronto, ¿de acuerdo?
— ¿Para qué me quieren revisar?
—Estuvimos casi 70 años desaparecidos.
— ¿¡Que!? ¿Cómo sobreviví?—preguntó Grace.
—No lo sé, pero ella necesita checar que no tengas ningún daño, así que espera aquí un momento, iré por ella.
Grace se sentó en la orilla de la cama, no entendía aun lo que había pasado, ni siquiera estaba segura de lo ocurrido, alguien tocó a la puerta sacándola de sus pensamientos.
—Adelante.
—Teniente Rogers, soy Jemma Simmons—se presentó la científica.
—Tienes su acento—dijo Grace sin pensar.
— ¿Disculpe?
Grace la miró a los ojos, temía que hubiese la posibilidad de que fuera familiar de esa mujer, sin embargo, los ojos de Jemma desprendían algo diferente, probablemente estaba equivocada, luego lo investigaría.
—No, nada, solo me parece que tiene el mismo acento que alguien que intento hacerme la vida imposible en el pasado.
Jemma asintió, no sabía a quién se refería.
—Espero que esa persona haya tenido su merecido—comentó la científica.
—Yo también.
Jack entró al gimnasio, se acababa de enterar. Probablemente pronto tendrían una reunión para saber el plan a seguir.
—La hermana de Rogers despertó—informó Rollins.
— ¿Y?
Brock no dejó de entrenar, nunca había entendido porque esas noticias causaban tanto revuelo.
— ¿Crees que sepa algo de HYDRA?—le preguntó Jack.
—No creo que sepa más que Rogers, me conformo con que no sea igual de insoportable que él—contestó Brock.
Después de la revisión Steve entró de nuevo.
—Ya le hablé con Fury, te irás conmigo a mi departamento.
— ¿Tienes departamento propio? ¿Y quién es ese tal Fury?—cuestionó Grace.
—El director—dijo Nick entrando.
Después de presentarse, se fueron, Grace observaba emocionada su alrededor, muchas cosas habían cambiado, no sabía si sería capaz de adaptarse. Cuando entró al departamento se quedó congelada.
— ¿Qué es todo esto?—preguntó atónita al ver tantos aparatos eléctricos.
—Bienvenida a la era moderna, hermanita.
—Creo que hubiera preferido morir.
—Oh vamos no es tan difícil.
—Por favor dime que yo no tengo que volver hacer esa horrible labial rojo y tengo que promocionar una imagen perfecta—dijo casi conteniendo la respiración.
Steve sonrió, sabía cuánto odiaba ese labial que las obligaban a usar en el ejército.
—En esta época te puedes maquillar como quieras, creo que te gustará del nuevo siglo.
— ¿Y la guerra?—preguntó Grace de pronto.
—Me dijeron que ganamos
— ¿Ya no hay más guerras?
—Sigue habiendo enemigos ahora protegemos la tierra, si quieres te puedes unir
— ¿Y si me van a escuchar y tomar en cuenta? —preguntó nerviosa.
Odiaba el “puesto” que le habían asignado, nunca fue más que un adorno, nunca le dejaron tomar decisiones ni estar en batalla, siempre le hacían caso a Steve.
—Las cosas son muy diferentes ahora, te lo prometo.
Tocaron la puerta del departamento, Steve fue a ver y unos minutos después volvió a donde había dejado a Grace, quien veía con curiosidad la pantalla de televisión.
— ¿Con quién hablabas?—preguntó sin dejar de mirar la pantalla.
—Con Kate, la vecina; es enfermera—respondió Steve.
Grace de inmediato volteó hacia Steve y lo observó.
— ¿En serio?
Algo no le agradaba, iba a descubrir quién era esa mujer.
Los últimos dos días habían sido muy estresantes, todo era completamente diferente, mientras Steve estaba atendiendo unos asuntos, ella fue al gimnasio, miraba indecisa el saco de boxeo.
—También tenemos pesas—dijo una voz masculina atrás de ella.
Se sobresaltó al escucharlo y volteó, Brock estaba estupefacto, había visto las fotos, pero verla en persona…era más hermosa.
—Lo siento, no quería asustarla Teniente primero Rogers.
Grace sonrió, la conocían, al fin sabían quién era ella.
— ¿Y tú eres?—preguntó intrigada
—Brock Rumlow, Comandante del equipo STRIKE.
Brock estiró la mano, ella la estrechó.
—Llámame Grace, has estado con mi trabajando con hermano, ¿verdad?
—Sí, hemos tenido varias misiones juntos.
—Seguro lo odias—bromeó Grace.
— ¿Eres igual de mandona que él?
—Soy peor.
Ambos rieron.
—Grace, Fury quiere ha…
Se calló al ver la escena que presenciaba.
—Veo que ya se conocen—dijo Steve finalmente.
Después de salir de la oficina de Fury, se encontraron en el pasillo con Nat.
—Ella es Natasha Romanoff.
—Grace Rogers.
—Si necesitas hablar con alguna chica, me puedes buscar—ofreció la rusa.
Brock tomó el reporte que ni siquiera había leído y lo firmó, se sentía un poco raro, no estaba seguro que algo así le hubiese pasado antes, ¿qué era realmente lo que estaba sintiendo?
No podía dejar de pensar en Grace Rogers, le parecía una chica muy guapa, quería volver a ver esos ojos azules, estaba seguro que en ellos se reflejaban una inocencia que no creía haber visto antes en su vida.
Siendo sinceros, si no podía conquistarla, al menos se conformaba con llevársela a la cama.
Era el tercer recluta que me han dado a Grace al hospital en ese entrenamiento.
—Hey calma, creo que hasta aquí llega el entrenamiento.
Si continuaba así probablemente el equipo se quedaría sin miembros.
—Estoy bien—atacó la chica.
—No lo pareces—respondió Brock.
Se acercó a ella y la tomó del brazo.
— ¿Qué es lo que pasa?
— Hey, sé que estás herida…pero, no estás sola, ¿de acuerdo?
—Todo es muy confuso, yo...es raro...Steve se las arregló, pero yo no estoy segura de poder hacerlo—confesó Grace.
Brock estaba sorprendido, no esperaba una respuesta tan honesta.
—Puedo ayudarte si quieres—se ofreció.
Nunca esperó que una oportunidad así se le presentará.
—Stevie, no me agrada como te llevas con la vecina—se quejó Grace mientras sacaba la tarta del horno.
—Oh Gracie, vamos, es buena persona—defendió Steve.
—Si tú lo dices, iré por mi ropa.
— ¿Necesitas ayuda?
—Puedo sola y no se te ocurra tocar la tarta, aún no termino de decorarla—advirtió.
Encontró su ropa rota, sabía quién era la culpable, trató de calmarse, Kate le recordaba mucho a esa mujer.
Fue al departamento de Kate y tocó la puerta, iba a acabar con esa situación de una vez por todas.
— ¿Qué?—dijo Kate cuando la vio al abrir la puerta.
— ¿Por qué lo hiciste?—cuestionó Grace enseñándole la ropa.
—Nadie te quiere aquí
— ¿Tú me vas a prohibir vivir con mi hermano?
—Me encargaré de que te eche.
Ambas mujeres empezaron a discutir.
—Y por esa razón todos preferían a tu hermano—dijo con malicia Kate.
—Prefiero apuñalarme a mí misma en el ojo que mirarte un minute más.
Kate cerró la puerta enojada, Grace hizo un gesto de exasperación y se dirigió hacia el departamento justo en el momento en el que Steve abría la puerta.
— ¿Qué pasó?—preguntó consternado.
—Mira lo que tu noviecita le hizo mi ropa—respondió Grace de forma agresiva a la vez que le enseñaba la ropa.
—Gracie para empezar ella no es mi novia, ¿segura que fue ella?
— ¿Quien más podría ser?, ella me odia Stevie.
—Vamos, estoy seguro que la provocaste, no es la primera vez que pasa algo así—Steve la defendió.
Grace sabía a qué se refería su hermano, ya habían tenido una pelea similar en el pasado.
—Olvídalo—dijo Grace.
Le aventó la ropa a Steve, se dio la media vuelta y comenzó a caminar hacia las escaleras.
— ¡Grace!, no quise…
Ignoró a su hermano y continuó caminando hacia las escaleras cuando se topó con Brock en las escaleras, él parecía que había sido testigo de lo ocurrido.
—Brock…yo… ¿cuánto viste?
—Todo.
—Oh no...
—Al final del día, eres una rosa de jardín, y esa perra es una hierba.
Grace rio, al menos parecía que tenía a alguien de su lado.
—Tienes razón, ¿qué pasó?
— ¿Qué haces aquí Rumlow?—preguntó Steve.
Iba a ir a alcanzarla cuando se encontró a la pareja.
—Vine a dejarles unos documentos.
—Acabo de hacer una tarta, pasa para que la pruebes—ofreció Grace.
—Dijiste que aún no estaba lista—se quejó Steve.
—Dije que no había terminado de decorarla.
Grace jaló del brazo a Brock, quien no se iba a negar, de alguna manera le daba satisfacción la situación. Steve los siguió arrastrando los pies.
— ¿Qué haces?—preguntó Steve interceptando a su melliza.
—Me la debes y lo sabes, considera que estamos a mano.
Steve suspiró, no tenía muchas opciones.
—No sabía que cocinabas—comentó Brock cuando tuvo el plato con la rebanada enfrente de él.
—Solía hacerlo antes de entrar al ejército, tuvimos que aprender porque mamá trabajaba casi todo el día, aunque Steve siempre quemaba la comida.
—Grace—advirtió Steve.
—Soy mejor cocinera que tú, señor con un plan—se burló Grace.
—No te quejabas antes—atacó Steve.
—Era comérmelo o morirme de hambre cuando estaba enferma—contraatacó Grace.
—Grace, suficiente—sentenció Steve.
—Lo siento hermanito—dijo Grace con sorna.
Brock intentaba contener la risa.
Brooklyn, enero 1918
Sarah Rogers estaba en la estación para despedir a su esposo, quien iría a la Guerra.
—Sabes que no quiero irme y dejarte en este estado—dijo Joseph en forma de disculpa.
—El deber te llama, estaremos bien, te escribiré cartas cada semana para que sepas como estamos y tan solo regresa a casa a salvo—pidió Sarah.
Sarah le dio un beso de despedida a Joseph, quien subió al tren que le llevaría a su destino para poder participar en la guerra.
A/N: written for @crushedbyhyperbole 200 challenge. This is the first drabble challenge thing I'm doing on Tumblr so like ,,,,, have mercy lmao
Summary: While Tony and Bruce science together, Nick tries his best not to send Clint to daycare -- with duct tape to stop the noise talking.
Warnings: aside from rupturing a lung extreme silliness, we should all be fine
"Whatcha working on, Big Green?"
Bruce looked up from the several sheets of paper in front of him. He stared for a moment before pushing his glasses up. "Big Green is sleeping. Don't wake him up."
Tony widened his eyes and put a finger to his lips. Bruce supposed he was trying to look apologetic, but his amused smile threw it all away. "But seriously," Tony said, setting down two mugs on the table, "what are you working on?"
Bruce shuffled the papers, trying to find some semblance of order among them. "Thor keeps asking why Midgard doesn't have flying pigs. He thinks it's because we're tiny and helpless. I think he wants me to believe that Asgard does have flying pigs and that that's the reason he's having trouble comprehending the phrase."
Tony handed one mug to Bruce and sipped from the other. He came to stand beside Bruce and gazed at the mess. "You do remember what happened the last time you played with genetics, doctor, don't you?"
Bruce shot him an annoyed look.
"Just sayin' . . . Big Green."
Bruce rolled his eyes. He brought his mug to his lips and paused. "What is this?"
"Hot cocoa," Tony said, lifting pages and rearranging the mess.
"Why do I smell booze?"
Tony paused. "No wonder mine was tasting off," he said, swapping their mugs.
"You put booze in hot cocoa?"
"Just a little bit. I'm on babysitting duty and holy mother of all evil, Clint can talk for hours."
Bruce paused for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough, do continue. And anyway, I'm not going to give a pig wings, that would be absurd."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Waiting for you. I want you to help me create a robot that looks like a semi-realistic pig. And I want a remote control for it. Like, tomorrow."
"Why?" Tony asked slowly, less afraid and more intrigued.
"Thor uses the compound gym on Wednesdays and I wanna make it follow him around for the whole day -- at the very least -- and have him stare into its lifeless eyes and realise that the flying pig is merely a soul-eating creature from the darkest pits of hell aka our combined brain cell."
"You have my full attention, Dr Banner." Tony said after a moment, setting the mug down. He paused briefly. "And my therapist's number -- which I will write down after this."
"Look, I'm just saying--"
"You 'just saying' is speaking it into existence."
"Oh, bullshit, Barton. You're just saying that because you watched the Matrix again this weekend. Where is Stark?"
"Nick, come on. Look me in the eye and tell me with a hundred percent certainty that you honestly think I burned down the kitchen last week.”
Nick stood with his folded arms and half-frown. With his one eye, he fixed a blank stare on Clint. "I, with one hundred percent certainty, believe that you burned down the kitchen -- and I’m just saying I think you did it to deflect attention to the fact that you also put a rip in Rogers’ curtains.”
Clint shrugged. “Okay, fair.”
“Can we please get back to the part where you explain why I had to pull you out of the vents?”
“I already told you!”
“I really do not believe that you were in the vents because you were hiding from Natasha -- because you ate her last animal cracker."
"You gotta hide me," Clint pleaded, "if she finds out I ate them, you're going to be short one agent."
"I fail to see the downside."
Clint clung to Nick's arm. "But I'm your favourite!"
"Where is Stark?" Nick muttered, peeling away from Clint and glancing around. "It's his turn."
Nick Fury was not having a good time. It was early on a Wednesday morning and he'd only visited the compound to see if things were still running smoothly and if Hill was doing all right watching the morons -- the same morons that he may have made the mistake of putting in the same room and team a few years ago. Now, here he was, having to entertain Clint. Nick did believe that Clint ate all the animal crackers, but only because a sugar high seemed like the only plausible explanation.
And goddamnit, where the hell was Tony? This was Tony's week to make sure Clint didn't accidentally set himself on fire again or something of the sort. Nick didn't pray often. In the last hour, he had prayed twice the amount he'd prayed in probably his entire life. Nick was beginning to consider offering to deep clean the entire compound if Tony would just come fetch the child -- agent.
Nick pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to block out Clint explaining the backstory behind exactly how he got stuck in the vents. How the hell did he even get in them in the first place? Nick didn't know and frankly, he didn't care. He just wanted to leave at this point. Pulling Clint out of the vents could have been documented as an extreme sport. Nick thought he might have dislocated his shoulder. It didn't help that when he finally got Clint out, the archer fell straight down and dropped Nick with him.
Now Clint was trying justify his theft of Natasha's biscuits. Something about starving and there being only coffee beans left.
"Wait, go back. Did you eat raw coffee beans? As in, the beans themselves?"
Nick's horrified expression did not affect Clint in the slightest. He nodded earnestly, features twisting as he remembered the disgusting taste. "Yeah, and let me tell you one thing, Nick. Coffee beans are not for eating."
"Everyone knows that! Babies probably know that!"
Clint scoffed. "You've clearly never been hungry, huh?"
"Oh, I've been hungry. Just not dumb enough to eat actual coffee beans."
"I'm tellin' ya, Nick, Natasha was a murderer in a past life."
Great, the topic had changed again. Nick stared at Clint. Did the man have an internal drug system? Did the man have any adult mannerisms at all? Was his memory working, let alone intact? "We are thinking about the same Natasha, right?"
"Why, how many do you know?"
"I -- I can't do this. I don't have the energy for this today. I'm leaving. Go find Stark and get him to keep you company."
"Tony and Bruce have been working together since yesterday."
"Then harrass Rogers."
"He's cooking."
"Natasha."
"She's locked in her room and watching rom-coms."
“Then sit in the corner and count your thumbs,” Nick said, already backing towards the door.
Clint followed. “I’m coming with you. You’re gonna have to keep me company until Natasha cools down.”
Nick scoffed. There was no way he was going to sit through twenty-four hours of the man-child rambling. "Yeah, and pigs might fly."
Any further conversation halted at the unholy scream that ripped through the entire compound. Nick and Clint watched as Thor -- looking strange in the very normal workout clothing instead of his usual armour -- barrelled past them, screaming.
A flying pig followed.
Clint raised his eyebrows at Nick. Before either of them said anything, Tony and Bruce sprinted after Thor and the pig. While the latter held a remote control in his hands, the former held up a video camera. Both were laughing.
Nick left the compound before Clint started asking him about the pig. As the chopper lifted, he caught sight of Thor circling the compound. The flying pig wasn't far behind and sprinting along with loud laughter was Tony and Bruce.
The safety of the world rested in the hands of children. Nick had never missed Carol more.
